


'Til Kingdom Come

by softbot



Category: GOT7
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29406780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softbot/pseuds/softbot
Summary: “It’s not your fault, you know.” Jackson says, referencing their breakup, “I wouldn’t want you to feel like you did anything wrong.” It’s not that he did anything wrong, it’s just that he, as himself, is the wrong person. In the end unfit for Jackson, not matching him in the way he thought he did throughout all these years.
Relationships: Park Jinyoung/Jackson Wang
Kudos: 10





	'Til Kingdom Come

**Author's Note:**

> 'til kingdom come - coldplay
> 
> this is just a vent fic lol

_ Steal my heart and hold my tongue. _

_ I feel my time, my time has come. _

“You’re here.” Jinyoung breathes, the words slipping past his lips before he has the chance to even register them. His voice, weak at its core and uncharacteristically scratchy, makes Jackson hesitate in the doorway. But despite his faltering he walks in the room, taking in his surroundings as he steps closer. His brown beat-up dress shoes click quietly on the vinyl flooring until he sits down on the hard, uncomfortable armchair beside Jinyoung’s bed. The room falls silent, or, well, as silent as a hospital room can get. There’s soft chatter from the hallway, noises of carts and beds being wheeled past and the soft patter of the nurses’ shoes following suit. A mechanical whirring acts as white noise, accompanied by a faint rattle of the air conditioner in the ceiling. Jinyoung clears his throat, the dry noise making Jackson finally look up at him, moving his gaze from his own shoes to the person he came to see.

_ Let me in, unlock the door. _

_ I've never felt this way before. _

Jinyoung looks … out of place. He’s sitting on top of the clean white sheets in his ratty old faded jeans, dirt and dust gathered along the seams on the sides of his legs and the crevices where he’d cuffed the hems. His black socks have faded to the point that the soles of his feet are starting to shine through the lines of fabric and string, his legs crossed and tucked to lay on top of his thighs. Dry hands rest in his lap, the skin cracked at the knuckles and white where he’s curling his fingers to hide inside his palms. Jackson looks at his face, stubble growing in, hair messily reaching past the usually sternly kept length. Jinyoung’s eyes are hollow as he pointedly looks away from him, gaze fixed somewhere in the corner opposite to them, sleep unwept at the corners. He looks small. In the way that his collarbones stick out just a little more underneath his thin shirt and cardigan, but also in the way that he’s almost curled in on himself, protective and wary.

Jackson takes a hold of the armrests of his chair, pulls himself a little closer so he can speak, left hand moving to grip lightly at the railing of the bed. The younger lets his gaze move, lightly brushing at the others face for a second before settling on looking at the hand on the railing. The whites on his knuckles lessen as he relaxes them, moving to hold his own hand as he keeps his gaze locked, a wave of longing and sadness filling his eyes before quickly getting blinked away. He pets at the back of his hand with his thumb and waits.

_ And the wheels just keep on turning, _

_ The drummer begins to drum, _

When Jackson doesn’t speak and instead sits silently, Jinyoung meets his eyes in curiosity. It’s the first time he’s properly looked at the older since he walked in and he can feel a prickling at the back of his neck as their eyes hold contact, feeling vulnerable and open. Jinyoung shifts his eyes, having always been uncomfortable with any prolonged eye contact, and he settles on studying the other's face.

Jackson looks the same, of course, it’s not like he’d transform into a completely different person just because they haven’t seen each other in a while. His face is clean shaven, hair trimmed cleanly and his expression neutral, soft. He’s handsome. He has no earrings scattered around his multiple piercings, but his usual necklace lays against his neck and upper chest. Jinyoung wants to hold it between his fingers, feel the texture of the chain on his fingertips again, wants to trail his touch against his neck to cradle his face. An accustomed sad feeling creeps up and around Jinyoung’s stomach and chest, dancing in tandem with the guilt of wanting something he simply can’t have. He blinks, swallows back the feeling and renders his face into a blank again, choosing to stare out of the window on his right side instead.

_ I don't know which way I'm going, _

_ I don't know which way I've come. _

“You’re still doing that around me, after all this time.” Jackson speaks up, his sudden voice startling a flinch out of Jinyoung who licks his lips and opens his mouth to ask what he means until he’s cut off, “Hiding yourself behind that expression, forcing yourself to act as if you feel nothing.” A short silence falls between them, an expectancy for any kind of verbal answer.

“Can I … Would it be okay to ask you how you’ve been feeling?” Jinyoung asks meekly instead, regretting it the second the words brush past his lips. He exhales out an awkward, hushed chuckle. “Or is that too weird?” 

It’s been two months since they broke up. The breakup in itself wasn’t horrible, they talked calmly and reached a conclusion together, but of course as feelings unravelled they’d let bitterness seep into their presence, leaving a foul taste after they’d retreated to their solitude. And it was sudden, so painfully sudden. They had been talking about their future together for a long time at that point, planned where they’d move in together if and when Jackson passed his entrance exams. For the first time in years Jinyoung had felt hope for a gentler future, a future where he could wake up ready to face the morning with someone he loves by his side. His rose coloured glasses fixated on the future shattered to stinging pieces as the first words in the dreaded conversation came to air, he really had thought they were going to grow old together, he had thought he was enough.

_ Hold my head inside your hands, _

_ I need someone who understands. _

“It’s not weird.” he gets reassured, the rising edges of his embarrassment smoothed slightly by the other’s rational and even voice.

“I guess I’ve been feeling quite contradictory. And … worried. Worried that we’d just turn into strangers. I wouldn’t want us to end on such a sour note.” Jackson says, his voice staying even.

“The years we had made us close and it’s definitely been weird not having you … There. Not talking to you, not knowing what you’re up to, not knowing...” the  _ if you’re okay _ stays unsaid, but it’s presence in the pause is clear.

“How have you been?”

“I feel shattered.” If Jackson feels anything by hearing his answer he doesn’t show it in his face, instead looking past Jinyoung and outside the window, neutral, calm. What a hypocrite. 

“That’s a bit dramatic but, well, I do feel like shit.” he lets out with a breathy, short huff of laughter barren of humour. His hands unravel from each other as he reaches for the hospital band around his wrist, slipping his index finger under it and twisting it into a loop, pulling the material tight around his skin. “But that’s not really surprising.”

“It’s not your fault, you know.” Jackson says, referencing their breakup, “I wouldn’t want you to feel like you did anything wrong.” It’s not that he did anything wrong, it’s just that he, as himself, is the wrong person. In the end unfit for Jackson, not matching him in the way he thought he did throughout all these years.

“The times with you were one of the best I’ve had in my life. You taught me so much, you … You gave so much to me.” And still, it wasn’t enough. Nothing he ever did or tried was fulfilling enough, always missing the mark by a few inches, always off in the places where he wanted to be right.

_ I need someone, someone who hears, _

_ For you, I've waited all these years. _

“Thank you,” Jinyoung replies, “for coming.” He straightens his back as he speaks, freeing his hands to rest idly at his lap again, his posture and presence stoic.

“But I think you should go.” 

“So suddenly?” Jackson tries to joke, but the tone falls flat before it even picks up. He clears his throat, lets his gaze fall on Jinyoung’s side profile for a moment before he reaches down to press his palm against the back of his hand. There’s a sharp, cut off inhale from Jinyoung as he finally moves his focus back, looking at the hand hesitantly and awkwardly half-cradling his. He turns his hand around, slides his palm to meet the other and curls his fingers around the edges instinctively. His thumb comes up to trace the edges of Jackson’s fingernail, petting softly at his nail bed. He breathes shakily, his shattered heart rattling inside his ribcage as he greedily savours what he shouldn’t be getting. The shaking of his heart tremors into every line of his body. He feels stupid for being alive. 

_ For you I'd wait 'til kingdom come. _

_ Until my day, my day is done. _


End file.
